A new path
by Ovan07
Summary: From the darkness, he comes into a whole new world. What he had seen into the abyss, about destiny, did that broke him? Or will he be able to stand up once again? Maybe meeting other people in this war will give him an answer... For isn't it in time of war that the true self is revealed?


**Prologue - The will to move on**

Move On.

Two words. A meaningless statement for the majority of people aside for the black haired boy.  
Two words that epitomize his way of life, the resolve that he came to have in this new world. Maybe just a new way to run away from his problems?

Ironically, it was just his initial reaction for all the situations who can arise that he thought he can do nothing, or that someone else can do better than what he will do. A "Fight or Flee" reaction where he invariably choose to flee, thinking that he's useless.

However, reality wasn't such a gentle thing that he would found what he was searching easily. He knew that, from now on, to obtain what he wanted he must stand on his own, it began to be taught to him in the same time as his arrival in this world, along with the various meetings he had done until now.

He kept advancing, ignoring the screams, their suffering, their scorn, all of what could have stunned him, preventing him to reach his goal, was unable to really reach him, pushing away by the light of his soul. Even if he can protect himself with his own power, he's alone against an embodiment of humanity's malevolence. His own resistance, equal to his will, weakening by this vicious atmosphere, his doubts, his fears, kept to reappear. There his only so much a person can take before falling to his own mind.

 _'Move On.'_

Two words.  
His greatest desire.  
A symbol of his will.  
An everdistant objective that he will keep pursuing.

A small, pained smile crept on his face. The irregulars couldn't be too different from each other after all. Even if they were fundamentally different, it was that link that push them to go beyond what they thought themselves able to do. Was it irony or fate that they met? The memory of an old man and his words return in his mind at this thought...and his smile get bigger. It didn't matter. Regardless of the circumstances, what happened was in the past and it was up to him to give that a meaning, but now he had to go down the path he had chosen.

All he needed, was to remind himself of those two words to keep moving forward. To remind himself who his greatest opponent was. The one that he couldn't hope to flee, yet at the same time, the one that he would hope to avoid fighting.

Not the manifestation of the darkest aspects of humanity.  
Not the blond haired King of Heroes that his friends were fighting.  
Not the immortal demi-god who fought for the white haired girl.  
Not the sick priest that had helped to orchestrate this sick scenario.  
Not the worm filled Head of a family of magus.  
Not even the past events he lived prior to his participation in this pointless war.  
No one else but himself.

A struggle that he would face throughout his life... that was fine. It was those fights that will give value to his dream.

It wasn't so much of a war against reality than against himself. Against the temptation to give up, to cast away his newfound resolution, to live his life with fear of the others yet yearning for their acceptance, even if it was just to be used by them.

Never. Not even for his life he will return to that state of mind.

That single minded decision, that angry stubborness, that resolve was the fulcrum of the person he was today.

He gritted his teeth, the pressure from the curse all around him always heavier, he pumped his Od through his circuits to keep moving. The pain will soon end, the doubt had no longer meaning now that he had chosen to act. As a human he could not hope to win against a god, yet it was also because he was human that he could go far beyond what common sense dictate. After all, who else than humans could think to go against the fate?

Another wave of shadows had emerged from the miasma, going straight for him, the intruder. He manifested his weapon, a white, silvery gun, a reflect of his will, that he aimed to his foes, taking them out without real difficulty, but with a toll on his weakening reserve. No matter. He was drawing closer to his objective, he could hear her, her soul, soon they would be face to face, and he would have to fulfill his promise.

With a ragged breath, he could see the tunnel's end. Hearing distinctively a girl's crying beyond the opening of a cave, his hand was reaching his pocket, touching the handle of a strange dagger, a symbol of faith from someone dear to him, a reminder that he was not alone and that hope was still here.

As he went to the entrance, he couldn't help but let his mind reeled back to the moment he had begun this unique journey.

 **Author's note:** It's here, my first fanfic. I want to thanks Neoalfa for letting me use his story "Path of the King" as basis for starting mine. For those who don't know, I advise to quickly cure your ignorance and start reading this story. This prologue is quite identical to his, I really liked how that can set the pace, even if mine could be of lesser quality. Don't worry, the continuation will be my own writing.  
So, as I was saying this is my first fanfic, please review but avoid the flames.

P.S.: English isn't my native language so I'm sorry for the bad grammar, I will try to fix that with time.


End file.
